Soon after going on duty Jimmy felt a fine drizzle of rain in his face. The fact was unpleasantly borne to the knowledge of the others, and there was whispered grumbling. But it had to be endured, and it was fortunate that the lads had on their trench coats.
"Pleasant—not!" said Roger in a low voice, as he sprawled in the mud at Jimmy's feet.
"Oh, it might be worse. I'm wondering what poor Schnitz is doing now." Jimmy never took his eyes off No Man's Land.
"That's so," went on Roger. "I wish we knew. Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed.
"What's the matter? See something?" asked Jimmy quickly, but not turning his head to observe the shadowy form of his chum.
"No. But I felt something! Rat as big as a fox terrier. Ugh! he nipped me on the shoe. Dirty brute!"
"Part of the gay and festive life we live," murmured Jimmy. "Well, it can't last forever, that's one consolation."
Then he became silent—he and Roger. They waited in the trench for something to happen. And it did happen, but not in their immediate neighborhood.
For suddenly, about half a mile down the trench to Jimmy's left, there was a brilliant burst of fire, and a moment later the sound of sharp firing from the German trenches was borne to the ears of the Khaki Boys.
Instantly the traverses on both sides, and far up and down the line, were in tense activity. The waiting Sammies sprang to the firing step alongside of Roger and Jimmy, and, doubtless, in the German trenches the same scenes were taking place. The din was terrific, even though, so early in the conflict, the artillery had not yet come into play.